


When the Dead Walk Again

by spadey



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: AU, F/M, Modern AU, Zombie AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-21
Updated: 2014-01-21
Packaged: 2018-01-09 14:07:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1146885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spadey/pseuds/spadey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five years after the end of the word Sansa Stark has found her home with notorious Lannister bodyguard, Sandor "The Hound" Clegane. With the dead walking all around them and their human Allies disappearing with every turn, will the Bird and the Hound be ready to face the next stage of the apocalypse? Modern!Sansan Zombie AU!</p>
            </blockquote>





	When the Dead Walk Again

**Author's Note:**

> Sooooo.....Zombie AU! As usually, all characters belong to GRRM, and not me. All I have is the plot. Hope you guys enjoy! :)

She can remember exactly where she ways when the world ended, when everyone’s lives fell apart and the dead walked once more. She could recall now how much she hated that life, and how different it was now- five years later. She is seventeen know, Arya’s missing, her parents and eldest brother are dead, and her younger brothers are off on some adventure she still knows nothing about to this day. She can remember all the times Joffery and his damned bodyguards had beat her, and all the times she had to put on a mask and be someone else, be alone.

She remembers Sandor leaving. Her last hope. She remembers being rescued eventually, though, by someone she’d never expect. She remembers being taken far away by Petyr Baelish and his many associates. She remembers late-night talks with Randa and Mya, her closest friends. She remembers having to kill her first walker. She remembers finally being truly alone.

Sansa Stark is alone no longer.

Sandor Clegane found her, and she is his, as much as he is hers.

She remembers all those solemn nights when the tough Lannister dog curls up besides her and cries.

Yeah.

Giant, six-foot-five Sandor Clegane curls in the lap of a seventeen year old Sansa Stark and cries. She listens, though, and she knows he loves her for it. She knows how much he regrets not taking her from the Lannisters that first time. How much he regrets almost letting her die. He regrets not admitting how much his feelings about her envelope him every waking moment.

Well, maybe she made up the last part, but she likes to remember it that way.

Because she likes it like that, having this big, burly man at her side admitting how much he loves her, even if it’s just her imagination at work again.

She  finds it easier to remember now, now that she has her Dog by her side.

 

****

 

“Sansa!” He calls her name in that gruff tone, and she knows something’s wrong. She’s still asleep, though, and rubs the weariness from her eyes before propping herself up and calling back with a distorted grumble.

Sansa Stark rises from her cot in their small home and shakes herself awake one last time. She’s always happy to wake up to his voice, so she smiles and walks towards the meager kitchen she almost never uses. Sandor looks confused and agitated, so she tilts her head and leans against the door frame.

“Yes, Sandor, what do you want? A girl needs her beauty sleep, you know.” Sansa twinkles a sly smirk at him.

He glares in return and curses. “Fuck your bloody beauty sleep, Little Bird, we have a problem.”

Suddenly, Sansa’s priorities are set straight. They’ve been living here in the country for almost nine months now, just the two of them, in their tiny little house. She knows it can’t be walkers, by now the ones in the country are almost all dead or have shuffled into the cities. So Sansa assumes the next possible answer.

“Looters? Other humans?” She asks, strangely nervous. Their last encounter with other humans had not been a good one.

It had been with two of Joffery’s goons, Meryn Trant and Boros Blount, and Sandor had barely been pleased with simply shooting them as they came close. Sansa clenched her fist and chewed on her lip nervously, somehow she’d gotten that habit from Arya, all their years apart.

“Aye, Pretty Bird-” She blushes, and the way he looks at her makes the red deepen into a maroon. He knows she gets embarrassed when he calls her that in his gruff tone, even though they’re the only ones to hear it. “Saw them this morning. It’s some of those black brothers, and you know what that means-”

“Jon?” She interrupts, even though she knows he hates it.

A rough rub to his face and Sandor sighs, nodding. “You’re bloody cousin is sending men out searching the area, we need to lay low, we don’t even know if you’re cousin still in charge. You heard the whole bloody bashings about Stannis back in with the fucking Band, he may be in charge.” She remembers now, the Brotherhood had been led by a man who’d survived so many bites he’d been known to be untouchable by the virus, which surprised any visitors to their home. Before their leave of that place -Sandor had been put on trial by their new leader (A woman named Stoneheart, she believes) and lost, so the pair of them had been banished from the Brotherhood’s territory- all the talk had been of Stannis Baratheon’s alliance with the Night’s Watch. A bunch of thieves, rapers, and all men banished from other groups for crimes, but their duty was true. They were watchers of all, and patrolled much of the darker, unforgiving regions of the world, including many cities.

If Jon Snow, her orphaned cousin was still in command of the Night’s Watch Sansa Stark was saved, but she didn’t know about her faithful companion. The Night’s Watch didn’t particularly care for the Lannisters, as they’d tried to murder their newest leader a while back.

Sansa is already filled with excitement, her smile bright as she hops over to him and hugs his wide shoulders. Sansa crying already, and Sandor grips the back of her head tightly, resting his chin in her hair. He doesn’t know why she’s crying, but all that matters is that he is holding her, and she is happy about that.

“Stop fucking crying Little Bird, it’s the Night’s Watch we’re talking about, not a bloody saint.” He curses, but still holds her, and she loves it, though she won’t admit it.

Sansa sniffles up the tears and pulls away -much to Sandor’s dismay. “I’m sorry-” She begins nervously, still wiping the tears from her eyes. “I’m didn’t mean to, it’s just. I haven’t seen him in such a long time- seen any of my family really.” He gives a curt nod and Sansa knows he understands, they both know everything to know about each other, though Sandor’s glad he doesn’t have any of these feelings towards his own brother, Gregor.

“It’s okay, girl. Stop crying and grab your gun, we need to go check the fences.” His reply is after minutes of silence, and Sansa only nods and hurries off. She heads into the room she’d just been sleeping in, the blankets and trinkets she kept with her. Remnants of her past lives, none of being Petyr’s pet, though, only Stark memorabilia. Arya’s favorite throwing knife, Jon’s silver bear claw. She couldn’t help but smile at the objects, but the red-head knew there was no wasting time once Sandor had a plan in mind. Sansa scurries around her room for a moment, pulling her hair into a tight bun atop her head -even though she knew Sandor hated not being able to watch it hang down low over her shoulders, as it bounced along with her movements- and washing whatever sleeping gunk was attached to her face. After she grabs her small pistol and Arya’s knife and hurried off towards the front of the farmhouse.

When she returned the kitchen Sandor was already outside, spending the time waiting for her by plucking the ripe tomatoes they had planted earlier on in their stay. Well, Sansa had planted them, actually, but Sandor had done most of the other hard work to make the garden actually usable. She could see he was upset about something, but he was always upset about something so she decided it was best not to act upon it.

“Finally ready, Little Bird?” He asks with a hint of mockery in his voice.

She gleams, tapping the gun that lays on her hip, though the sly smirk he sends her way sends blush creeping up her cheeks again.


End file.
